


Out of Nothing At All

by Lisafer



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, The Immortals - Tamora Pierce, The Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Adultery, Community: 31_days, Drama, F/M, Infidelity, Non-Chronological, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes love takes you by surprise, and comes out of nowhere. It makes you go against everything you stand for, everything you believe about yourself. And it can shatter even the most steadfast hearts, and ruin the lives around you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(note: this is a 31-days prompt from April 2010, and to fit the prompts, the story isn't told in chronological order. It might be worth looking at the timeline on www.tamorapierce.com if you're unsure when certain events fall.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt 01 - Pink ribbon scars that never forget_

432 H.E.

 

She goes to the sick room under the cover of night, clutching her dressing gown at her throat. Not everyone in the palace is asleep, so she treads lightly in her slippers.

He is awake, as she knew he would be. The Lord of Cavall has suffered off and on insomnia for as long as she’s been able to inquire after his sleeping habits. She takes a place next to his cot. “How do you feel?” Her voice is soft and low.

“Like death warmed over,” he answers, his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“You look terrible, Wyldon.”

“And you look tired.”

“I’ve been with the children all day. Vania won’t stop crying.”

“She was scared. She had been crying for you when I showed up, and I imagine she was during the intervening days until you got here. Prince Jasson did his best to comfort her, I’m told.”

“I owe you so much, Wyldon.”

“No you don’t.”

“Don’t go hiding behind your nobility and your sense of duty. I know why you were there.”

“They were helpless.”

She touches his face, running her fingertips beneath the gash. “Duke Baird says you will scar badly. And that you almost lost your arm.”

“A small price to pay for her safety. As well as the other children.”

“I’m sorry I never outright told you that Vania was yours,” she whispers. “It’s complicated.”

“I know,” he says, reaching up to hold her by the wrist with his left hand. “That’s why I never asked, but I think I knew it all along.”


	2. Taking the High Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 02 - Walking on high ground_

443 H.E. 

 

“Jon tells me you’ve accepted the position as the page training master,” she says in a low voice, leading her pony to the water trough.

“I have.” 

“And is it because….?”

“Because of you?” He looks up at the sky, squinting into the sun. “No.”

“Good.”

He turns to face her again, his wide mouth turning down at the corners. “If it’s so good, why are you here, practicing with the knights instead of your precious Riders?”

She flushes, looking even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. She regains her composure and looks up at him with level eyes. “Buri is working with them. I like to ride hard, and the trainees aren’t ready for that yet.”

He smiles the tiniest bit at her words, but keeps his amusement to himself. “I accepted the position because your husband gave me plenty of reasons why I should. I don’t relish living at the palace. I don’t look forward to seeing you raise your children with the man you love, watching you two grow old together. Knowing that I can never kiss you, never touch you.”

She trembles at his words, unaccustomed to hearing him spill his emotions so freely. “It can’t happen again.” It’s happened too many times already. 

“No, it can’t,” he agrees.


	3. The Right Time for Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 03 - it is a groove or is it a rut?_

440 H.E.

 

He’s come to her room late every night for the last two months; running a kingdom is never easy, but her heart always went out to him because he got such a rotten start. In recent weeks, the late nights and early mornings have made him irritable, and she suspects it’s because he’s forgotten to make time for himself or his family.

She knew going into this marriage that the life of a queen was a lonely one. She knew she would always be second to the realm in her husband’s heart. She thought she would be satisfied with hard work and children to raise – and yes, even a spouse who loved her more than he loved anyone else, if not anything.

But now she has her son, a precious little boy with his father’s bright blue eyes. And she has Buri to keep her sane when Jon is not around to listen to her concerns. And friends among the ladies at court. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

It doesn’t seem to be. 

She finds herself in the stables more often than her duties warrant. She tells myself that it’s to get to know the hostlers better, to meet more of the knights who are coming back to the capital after border patrols. She tells herself that her heart doesn’t pound wildly as she nears one particular stall, where one particular knight likes to keep his beautiful horse.

She’s not a woman who lies to herself often, though.

Not even when it comes to acknowledging that her married life has reached mundane levels, and that she’s relieved that Jon is so busy all the time. She performs her wifely obligations: they make love when he isn’t too tired, or she’s not completely worn out from Roald’s antics; she listens to his problems and helps him come up with solutions. She offers to come to his meetings with ministers, which he casually refuses, forgetting that he elevated her to co-ruler upon their marriage. 

He’s worn out, too, she reminds herself. Maybe with more rest, with more love, he’ll return to the person she fell in love with.

Maybe she lies to herself only when her heart aches from the reality of her situation.


	4. A Moment of Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 04 - Nothing ended, nothing begun, nothing resolved._

439 H.E.

“Thank you for your help, Lady…?”

“Vivenne. Of Genl—Cavall.” The other woman smiles wearily at Thayet, clutching the hand that has just been bandaged in a scrap of her own petticoat. “I was married only five months ago,” she explains.

Thayet grins. “I thank you just the same,” she says. “I’m Thayet _jian_ Wilima.”

“I know. I was here when you were first introduced to the court.”

“You fought well,” Thayet says, nodding to the bow in her new friend’s lap. 

“My sisters and I were raised to hunt,” she explains. “I’m shocked to see you with that sword, though.”

Thayet grinned. “My mother is K’miri. Women and men fight alongside each other in my culture.”

“I think all of Tortall should be grateful that you were raised this way.”

“I’m exhausted,” Thayet says, resting her head against the taller woman’s shoulder. “I could sleep for a hundred years.” She sees a flash of red and gold out of the corner of her eye, and waves weakly at Alanna.

Another knight comes into the throne room, surveying the damage. He’s in his mid- to late-twenties and he’s tall and handsome. Thayet raises her head, curiously, when he comes over to their side. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, kneeling next to Lady Vivenne. 

She nods. “Just scraped up a bit. And you?” she murmurs, running one hand along the hard plane of his cheek.

“I’m fine.”

As if she had suddenly remembered herself, she turns to Thayet. “Wyldon, this is Princess Thayet _jian_ Wilima. Thayet, this is my husband, Sir Wyldon of Cavall.”

Thayet is too weak to stand and curtsey, and this knight looks fatigued, too, so she merely nods her head. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Sir Wyldon.”

“Likewise,” he says, lowering in his head in a slight bow. When he lifts his eyes again, Thayet smiles; she likes his dark eyes. He seems to be the epitome of what a knight should be.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he says to Thayet, standing and pulling Vivenne to her feet. “We should probably get your hand properly bandaged.” He bows properly, and leads Vivenne through the rubble.

Alanna joins her with a sigh. “You fight off the Eldorne men and you make friends with the stiffest knight to ever come out of the chamber? I was right in bringing you to Tortall, because you’re made of pure magic.”

Thayet snorts in an unladylike manner. “You’re the one who saved the day, I’m told. I just do whatever I can to help.” She fights the urge to ask for more information about this Sir Wyldon, and instead asks Alanna about everything she’d done that day.


	5. Horse-Hearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 05 - We’ll be closer than the stars_

439 H.E.

 

She meets him a second time in the stables, three days before her wedding. He’s brushing down his stallion, and she stops to admire the beast.

“Bred from the Cavall stables, your highness,” he replies when she asks how he ended up with such a mount.

“You breed them?”

He nods, his expression somber. “Dogs and horses are a Cavall specialty.”

Thayet reaches a hand out to the creature, appreciating his gorgeous coat. “Do you sell them to other people, or breed them solely for your clan?”

“We sell.”

“Do you work with ponies at all?”

“It's rumored that you’re an accomplished horsewoman. Why are you looking for ponies?”

“It’s a pet project I have for the future. I need ponies – mean ones, if they can be found.”

He shakes his head, frowning. She stops admiring the horse long enough to admire his chiseled features. He is not as handsome as her intended – who is? – but he is a very attractive man. “We don’t breed ponies, I’m afraid. But there’s a fair in Galla each spring that focuses on ponies and horses.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get away, come spring.”

“No, I don’t believe you will.” The corners of his mouth turn upward wryly and he resumes brushing the stallion. “I hope becoming queen doesn’t keep you from riding.”

“Nothing can keep the horse-hearted from riding, Sir Wyldon. I’m sure you understand, as you seem to be as horse-hearted as they come.”

He smiles. Not the half-smile she’d received when they were introduced, a relieved twist of the lips, but a genuine smile that lights up his face. And she realizes in that moment that, in some small way, they are kindred.


	6. Preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 06 - Perhaps because it’s not sad enough_

444 H.E.

 

“We need to stop,” she tells him in the stable. It’s a neutral place – not his room or hers, not a place where they’ve ever made love. But it’s the place where she fell in love with him, over conversations about bloodlines and horse breeds. She wonders if there is such thing as a better place to have this conversation.

“I agree,” he says, not looking at her. He’s saddling his stallion.

“Are you getting ready for practice?” She knows that he likes to tilt in the afternoons.

“No. Heading to Cavall.”

“How is Vivenne?”

“The baby is due in one week’s time.”

She doesn’t know how to reply. It’s easier to think of their romance when she pretends their families don’t exist. 

“Send her my love.”

He pauses to gaze at her levelly. “Am I permitted to carry it with me?”

She flushes. “You always carry it with you,” she says, her voice low.

“I thought we needed to stop.”

“We do.”

He nods once, then resumes taking care of his mount. She wonders if he knows that her heart is breaking. Not only for her own regrets, but because she’s hurting her children. Her husband. Her friend. 

When he climbs into the saddle, he looks down at her with an expression that’s almost cold. Impersonal. “I’ll be back for training in September,” he says. There’s no sadness in his voice, no way to tell what he thinks of ending their affair. 

She wonders, as he rides out of the palace, if he even thinks it’s over.


	7. Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 07 - Where were you when they broke the news?_

445 H.E.

 

“She’s been sick for the last three weeks, so it hasn’t come as a surprise to any of us,” Vivenne says, looking at him in her mirror as she brushes her long dark hair. “The king is thrilled, of course. After the decline of the Conté line in past generations, he has to feel proud. Six children! I can’t imagine.”

“We have four.”

She pauses in her grooming, surprised at the tone of his voice. “I know, but having six so close in age… it would drive me crazy. Margarry alone is more than I can handle at times.”

He says nothing, but begins to undress. 

“She asked me stay through the pregnancy, but she’ll be due in the summer. Is it all right if we don’t return to Cavall during your break?”

Wyldon closes his eyes, looking ill. “I suppose that’s fine. How can you refuse the queen?”

Vivenne sets her brush down and moves to his side. “Are you all right, Wyl?”

“I’m fine; it’s just a headache.”

“I know you’re not fond of her, but she’s been my friend since before she married King Jonathan. I love her dearly.”

“I know you do.” He slips under the covers. 

She climbs into bed with him, wrapping her arms around him and leaning comfortably against his back. “Do you want more children, Wyl? Not now, but someday?”

“I think four is enough, Viv. More would just be trouble.”


	8. HEavy Secrets and Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 08 - Too much love will kill you in the end_

442 H.E.

 

“I don’t know what to do… I feel as though he’s completely lost to me.” Vivenne’s face is pale despite the warm afternoon sun. They take another turn through the rose garden, and Thayet glances into the window she knows is Wyldon’s office.

“He loves you,” she tells her friend. “I couldn’t be more certain of it.” _And I couldn’t be more certain that you’re not the only one in his heart._

“He’s always distracted, he never has time for the girls. He’s still intimate with me, but it’s nothing like we used to be.”

A pang of jealousy stabs at Thayet, but she swallows it, along with her guilt. “He is working hard to develop a new training program,” she reminds her friend. She leads her to a bench where they can sit, away from other strolling nobles and dignitaries. “Have you addressed your concerns with him?”

“No,” Vivenne says, twisting a handkerchief in her hands. “I don’t want to make accusations. Not unless I’m certain of their truth.”

She holds the answer to her friend’s woes. She can’t change what’s happened, but she can tell the truth. Her hands tremble as she reaches out to clasp Vivenne’s fingers and her throat burns.

“Oh, Thayet,” Vivenne says, looking up at her friend. “You’re so tender-hearted that you cry over my misery!” 

Thayet wipes at her tears angrily, trying to find the right words to admit her own betrayal. She hates that she’s so afraid to admit the truth, and swears for the millionth time that no matter how much she cares for him, it’s can’t continue. “Vivenne, I—”

“No – don’t say anything else on the subject. We should speak of happier things,” Vivenne says, wiping Thayet’s tears away with her handkerchief. “Tell me how the princess is doing. I’ve been so distracted with my own children that I haven’t asked about yours.”

They continue to compare their daughters, and Thayet’s heart stops pounding. Looking at Vivenne’s eyes, so vivid as she talks about her family, she realizes that telling her the truth will destroy her. _Let her think her suspicions are unfounded_ , she decides. _I won’t ever be alone with him again, and he will eventually return to the loving husband he once was._


	9. Our Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 09 - The end of something_

452 H.E.

 

“Stay here, Mama,” Vania begs, holding on to her mother’s hand. 

“I have to go to the stables, love,” Thayet replies. Her daughter has clung to her since the attack on the palace, but their lives must return to normal. “You could come with me, if you’d like.” 

Vania has always loved the stables, so it’s surprising when she shakes her head emphatically. Her dark hair swings around and falls over her round face. But through the locks Thayet sees her rich brown eyes – her father’s eyes – and within them, fear. 

She’s afraid of the horses, Thayet realizes with a start. The nursery had been attacked by equine creatures – hurrocks and centaurs. But it stings to think that any child of hers could be terrified of horses.

“You’ll be with me,” Thayet says, kneeling down beside her daughter. “You’ll be safe.”

She agrees, and they go to the Riders stables together; most of the mounts are gone, off with Buri and the new recruits. When Vania shies away from the ponies she once loved, Thayet shields her. But with time, the little girl comes to accept the differences between these creatures and the ones who had attacked her. “Can we go to the other stables?” she begs, when her last sugar cube has been eaten.

“Of course.” That had been her intention all along. They go to the low, sweeping structure that stables the King’s Own mounts, then the stable for the knights’ horses. And Wyldon is there, feeding an apple to Cavall’s Heart.

“Lord Wyldon, I heard that you were up and about, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.” His arm is still in a sling, and the gash by his temple makes her wince.

“Page training will begin soon.” He doesn’t say anything more. She knows him well enough that he doesn’t have to. Training will begin soon, so he has to make sure he’s in shape to train the pages because it’s his duty. He doesn’t slack.

Vania wanders off, looking for the horses she loves the best, and his eyes follow her. 

“How is she?”

“Better.”

“Good.” His dark eyes flick back to her. “I’m glad you’re with her, though I thought your Riders set out earlier today.”

She nods. “I’ve given up command.”

She can’t read his expression; she wonders how, in just six years, they’ve grown distant enough that she can no longer figure his thoughts. 

“Because of what happened?”

“Partly. And because there are more and more things to do. I can do two things, and being a mother and queen are more pressing. Buri can easily command the Riders, but I can’t get someone else to fill in at state functions.”

“Wise decision.”

She grimaces. “You just say that because you don’t think women should fight.”

He shrugs one shoulder. Such a casual movement seems awkward coming from him.

“Jonathan told me about the probation.”

“And?”

She considers her words carefully before answering. “For the first time I was really glad that everything was over between us.”


	10. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 10 - Grab your heart we need to leave_

440 H.E.

He’s lost in thought as he rides through the Royal Forest; it’s the place he goes when he needs to find peace. And the recent changes in his life have brought such tumult that he needs some semblance of serenity. First there was the birth of his daughter, and how it put Cavall in a state of upheaval. As if the crying and diapers and lack of sleep weren’t enough, there was also the fact that Vivenne was completely altered. Fatigue made her weepy and cranky alternately, and after being snapped at each time he offered to help, he decided it was easier to steer clear altogether. Shortly after Eiralys was born, however, was when his father passed away. He found himself a father and the lord of Cavall within six weeks; his one relief in this change was that he had to come to Corus immediately to meet with the king and his ministers in order to sort everything out regarding his new status.

But riding, at least, gives him peace and solitude. Until he hears the sound of crying. It’s different from the infant wails or frustrated sobs from Cavall. This person – a woman, clearly – sounds as though she’s been crying for some time, and is winding down. 

He follows the noise uphill, around a curve in the path, and is surprised to see the queen’s mare tethered near a creek bed. And Thayet sits on the forest floor, her legs drawn to her chest as she leans against the tree trunk. 

“Forgive me, your majesty,” he says, his voice low. He can’t watch her without letting her know he’s there.

She jumps to her feet, scrubbing the tears off of her blotched cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, Sir Wyldon.” 

He rather likes the demotion; it reminds him of better times. “Are you all right, your majesty?”

“Oh gods, please just call me Thayet.”

“But are you all right?”

Thayet nods. “Just… worn out. I had to get away from the palace.”

“I understand completely.” He dismounts and tethers his horse near hers. “Would you like to walk?”

She agrees, and they follow the creek. Their conversation is polite and reserved at first, limited to their common interest of horses. But at some point, a dam breaks and their conversation turns to their home lives and the surprises and disappointments in marriage.

“I thought I was wrong for feeling so trapped and unhappy.” Thayet says, stopping to look up at him. Her hazel eyes search his, and he has to fight the urge to pull her into his arms. 

When she reaches out to touch his hand hesitantly, he shakes his head. “Don’t do something we’ll both regret. He pulls away from her, only to have her tug him back. 

“Just this once, before we have to head back to our normal lives,” she murmurs, pressing herself against him, “remind me what it’s like to be wanted.”

His willpower evaporates. He closes the distance between them and presses his lips to hers. She responds enthusiastically, her lips parting beneath his and deepening the kiss. She’s no longer his queen; she’s a passionate woman – a woman who craves his touch, rather than being weary or frustrated or ashamed of her altered body. He loses himself in her kiss.


	11. Water Runs Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 11 - I can help you cry_

446 H.E.

 

He’s found at his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand; although he’s staring at the pages of an open book, his dark eyes don’t move at all. 

She used to love his eyes; the shade of deepest brown reminds her of a particular tree on her father’s lands. It’s a brown that’s decisive, unlike most people’s dark hazel eyes, which brown, but with flecks of gold and green to compromise the color. His lashes are thick and dark, but not long. And the shape of his eyes, even, is something she has admired.

Now, when he looks up at her, Vivenne feels sick. And she understands his recent strange behavior, and the uncharacteristic drink he holds.

“I’ve heard the bells ringing. Another princess?”

“Yes.”

“You look tired.”

“You have no idea, Wyl.” Vivenne makes her way into their bedroom and begins pulling things out of the wardrobe. He follows her and stands in the doorway to watch. 

“Are we going back to Cavall so soon?”

“I am. And so are the girls.” Her eyes burn; she’s already cried herself out today, and knows that there will be more tears tomorrow. But right now, there’s nothing left. “She looks like you, Wyldon. Maybe the rest of the court won’t see it, but I will. And as she grows, people might notice. She looks like Cathrea did as an infant. I can’t have the girls here – for their own protection as well as the princess’s.”

“I’m sorry.”

She whirls around, enraged. “You’re sorry?” A bark of hard laughter escapes her lips. “No, Wyl – you don’t get to be sorry for hurting me. You can feel regret, you can feel misery – you can feel anything in this cursed world but sorry for me. How long have you felt bad, duping your poor little wife? Was it a one-time thing, or is she one more person in a long string of affairs you’ve carried on?”

“I wouldn’t do that, Vivenne,” he insists, his voice low. 

“Had someone asked me that before, I might’ve agreed,” she replies hoarsely, “but I have no idea who you are anymore. Other than the father of the bastard princess.”

He closes his eyes, swearing under his breath.

“This wasn’t a one-time thing, was it?” 

“No.”

“How long has it been going on?” She remembers all her confidences to the queen, and feels sick to her stomach. “Is it over?”

“It’s over,” he says emphatically. “For good this time.”

“This time,” she repeats. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t haul you before a court of the Goddess right now.” New tears slide down her cheeks; she wonders how much water a body can hold. She spent the entire evening sobbing before deciding what she needed to do. That decision had brought another torrent. She’s surprised that there is anything left to weep.

“I can’t give you one,” he replies, his voice cracking. He turns his back to her, unwilling – even in this moment – to show her his own tears.


	12. How the Mighty Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 12 - Some things that glitter may be gold._

439 H.E.

 

When she walks in on Sir Alanna’s arm, his breath – like everyone else’s in the room - catches in his throat. He’s seen beautiful women in his lifetime, but he’s not one to be swayed by a beautiful face. Her luscious hairstyle is over the top, he feels, with the rubies resting in her dark curls. Her slender form is admirable, though he prefers a more tapered waist. Her coloring is exceptional; her lips were made for kissing and smiling.

Wyldon is most enamored with her hazel eyes, so level and rational. Her expression brims with intelligence. She looks sensible, and there’s nothing Wyldon loves more than a sensible woman.

And when she takes the king-to-be’s hand, he realizes that this woman will be the queen of Tortall. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. There is chemistry between them – a pulling and pushing, resistance and acceptance. They are a matched set, whether they know it or not: a prince and a princess, both extremely good looking, both living less charmed lives than people would expect.

She sits down on the seat next to Prince Jonathan’s throne and Wyldon joins in the applause. Her eyes scan the crowded hall, and when they meet his, he feels a jolt of attraction coursing through his body. Not just attraction, but _lust_. 

And in that moment, his entire being is rocked to its core. His wife of only four months is at his side, her hand enclosed with his, and he is coveting another woman.


	13. Advice From a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 13 - She shows us only surfaces_

441 H.E.

“You should call it a day, Jon,” Gary suggests softly from the doorway. 

Jon looks up blearily. The words on the parchment in his hands have been blurring, and he feels like he could crawl into bed and fall asleep in a heartbeat. “The congress meets in three days, Gary. I need to know this law inside and out, and anticipate the conservatives’ move.”

“That’s my job.” Gary sits down in the chair opposite his desk. “Have you even seen your son today?”

“Of course I have,” Jon snaps. “He was asleep in his basinet when I took my breakfast.”

“And Thayet?”

“She was asleep, too.” Jon fights to keep any semblance of melancholy out of his voice, but he knows it’s no use; Gary knows him better than anyone.

“She’s not happy, Jon.”

“I know.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve gotten into this mess. You love her, she loves you – this should be easy to fix.” His brown eyes are heavy with fatigue, though – and Jon suspects that Gary knows exactly how this mess comes into being. But then, Gary’s wife isn’t worn out from caring for a child; when they make love, there’s no pressure in the back of their minds to create heirs. Or if there is, it’s not as urgent. 

“I should go back to my quarters,” Jon says softly. “Thayet’s probably asleep already.”

“Cythera tells me she’s been riding a lot lately.”

“Good. She loves horses.”

“She’s riding alone, Jon.”

“I think the Royal Forest is safe enough.”

Gary frowns again. “Make up your mind, Jon – are we worried about attempts on your lives, or are we giving you both your freedom today?”

Jon sighs heavily. There’s no such thing as freedom when you’re a sovereign. “I think I’m losing her, Gary.”

His cousin studies his fingernails for a long moment before speaking up. “Why do you think this?”

He shrugs. “She’s impossible to read these days. She tells me nothing.”

“And what do you tell her?”

“What do you mean?” Jon asks sharply.

“We fought hard to change the laws – to make her a co-ruler. But I’ve barely seen her outside of social functions since the education changes were proclaimed.”

“She’s busy with Roald.” 

“She’s probably riding every day because she’s _bored_.”

“I can’t know until she tells me, Gary.”

“You can’t know until you ask her, Jon.”


	14. Living up to a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 14 - Who is the third who walks always beside you?_

440 H.E.

“Your bed is hard,” she says with a frown, sitting up.

“It’s firm.” It amuses him, that it’s taken her a week of rendezvous to notice this. He props himself up on one arm, studying her. “What’s bothering you?”

It’s never sat easily with her, the fact that he can read her so well. He considers it a point of pride that he can decipher her mood so easily. “I should be heading back to my rooms soon. I have a meeting with Buri about the Riders.”

“And?” 

“And sometimes facing Buri is harder than facing Jon.” Flushing, she pulls the sheet over her, modestly covering the flesh he’s spent the last hour diligently pleasuring. 

The after has been the problem in this affair. When they’re lost in kisses and touches and overwhelming feelings, it’s easy to pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. There is no Vivenne or King Jonathan; their children cease to exist for the briefest of moments. Station doesn’t matter as much as two bodies who so desperately want to be one. But after…. Everything changes when their breathing returns to normal.

He thinks of Vivenne, and the way she laces her hands with his after they make love. And he wonders if the king cradles Thayet against his chest, the way he would like to. Every time they have sex, there’s a moment afterward where he’s lost in these kinds of thoughts, simultaneously reveling in the feelings of completion and damning himself for being such a gods-cursed fool. 

Usually he’s brought to his senses when she climbs out of bed; she’s always moving, always heading somewhere or doing something when he would prefer to bask in the afterglow. But this time he’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of her sigh instead. Glancing up, he sees that she’s staring out the window, a deep frown etched on her faced. “What are you thinking of?”

“My mother was in an unhappy marriage,” she says flatly. “Growing up I assumed that I would be married off to some spoiled Saren lowlander and would be as miserable as she was.”

“What do you think of it now?” He knows her marriage isn’t a completely pleasant one.

She stands up and pulls on her underclothes. “I think her situation was far worse than mine. And think about the fact that – as far as I know – she never sought the comforts of a man outside her marriage.”

It’s like a punch in the stomach, seeing all the regrets wash over her beautiful face. “So you compare your behavior to hers.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Wyldon.” It’s the second time either of them have said this in their week and a half of love-making. “I’ve tried to live my life by my mother’s memory. She would be so disappointed in me. I’m so disappointed in me.” 

He recognizes the torment in her expression, her posture. He sees her push through it all, squaring her shoulders when her dress is finally pulled on and preparing to face the world again, stronger even in her pain. And curse it all, this display of stoicism makes him like her more.


	15. Only Make Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 15 - Who waits forever anyway?_

440 H.E.

Unlike the first time they kissed in the forest, she shakes now as he cups her face in his large hands. It feels impossibly real, knowing that the flickering light comes from her bedside lamp, rather than sunlight filtered through branches and leaves. In the forest, she could pretend that they were two unattached individuals, just one woman and one man. 

“You’re trembling, too,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “Are you frightened?”

“You could be the death of me.” His mouth covers hers in a sultry kiss. 

She wonders if he means that what they’re about to do could be considered treason, or if it’s something less literal than that. Her heart pounds as she parts her lips, deepening the kiss. 

“We could wait,” he says softly between kisses.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever,” she replies. Two months of exchanged glances at parties, chance meetings in the stables and a countless number of rides through the forest have brought them to this moment. She steps closer to her bed, tugging him along with her. “I need you.”

He needs no more invitation than this; his fingertips trace a delicate path from her lips down to her collar bone, then around the scoop neck of her frock. “I’ve never seen you wear a pregnancy charm before,” he says, before he his lips mimic the path his fingers had just traversed.

“Heirs are crucial,” she answers breathlessly. “So I’ve never had to wear it until now.” She doesn’t say what they’re both thinking: that her wearing it tonight shows the conscious decision to commit adultery. 

He pulls a matching gold necklace from his pocket, smiling wryly. “We can’t be too careful.”

She glances down at her hands, at the elegant diamond set in the gold band on her finger, and wonders if Jon is thinking of her. Is he guessing what she’s up to while he’s traveling the realm? Or is he occupied with his work and his friends?

Removing the band altogether, she sets it on the nightstand beside her bed. “I’m not the queen tonight,” she tells Wyldon firmly. She very deliberately begins to unbraid her hair, locking her eyes on his. Seeing the blatant desire etched on his face makes her heart pound; she hasn’t felt this way since her wedding night.

“Come to bed with me.” Taking his hand again, she yanks him toward her and giggles with delight when they fall to the bed together. Her reluctance and uncertainty are lost amid kisses and tender touches. It’s not sex, it’s not creating an heir – it’s just two people exploring possibilities and closing off the outside world and all its complications.


	16. Unpleasant Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 16 - Conscious of the secret guilt of others_

446 H.E.

She holds her baby to her breast, and he is overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment. No matter how many children they have, each birth is something sacred and special to him. He loves to look at their tiny little faces: the eyes that can’t focus on anything farther away than their mother’s face, the fingers that try to grasp at anything within reach.

“What would you like to name her? I was thinking maybe Roanna, after my aunt.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she agrees slowly, “but I was thinking of naming her after my own aunt.”

“And that would be…?”

“Vania.”

“Princess Vania? I think I like it.” He sits next to Thayet on the bed, one arm around her weary shoulders. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Thayet’s usually even voice is choked while she strokes the infant’s head. 

Thayet’s ladies bustle about, stopping occasionally in the cleaning and straightening to coo over the princess and her parents. One – the lady of Cavall, if Jon isn’t mistaken – does not fuss like the rest of them. Her vivid green eyes rarely leave Thayet or the baby, but she does not grin the way the others do.

Jon watches her for a long moment, until she realizes that his eyes are upon her. She flushes, then excuses herself, murmuring something about clean linens. Before she closes the door behind her, though, he sees her face crumple.

Looking at Thayet, he sees that her face, too, is flushed and embarrassed as she gazes at the door. 

“You’ve wronged her somehow.” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“I have.”

A cold chill runs through his body as he reaches out to grasp his daughter’s tiny hand. “Is there something I should know, Thayet?” 

She meets his gaze but says nothing for a long time, and the silence seems to press down on them. “No, Jon,” she finally whispers before turning her attention back to her daughter. Bringing her hand up to the baby’s cheek, she caresses it lightly. “It’s nothing.”

The uneasy feeling doesn’t go away, and he begins to fabricate answers to the question of how Thayet could’ve hurt this woman quite so much. And he wonders if perhaps he wasn’t wronged as well.


	17. Unwavering Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 17 - This place was in its third death_

452 H.E.

“You’re putting her on probation.” It’s a statement, not a question. She’s furious, and finds herself once again angry enough to move into another room in the palace. 

“One year, and in that time I’m sure she’ll prove herself more than capable of continuing. I’ve been told that she shows aptitude, and plenty of boys who haven’t the ability within the first year have continued on to become knights. She’ll be fine.”

“Assuming she’ll be judged fairly.” 

“She will. I’m sure of it.”

Thayet glares at her husband. A man who put a girl on probation can just as easily ban her from a program. And this man has been known to strip little girls of their dreams.

“It’s easier to turn a no into a yes than a yes into a no,” he points out when she tells him as much.

“That’s what Alanna always says.”

“Yes, and she’s the one who taught me that a no doesn’t turn into a yes very easily at all,” he says wryly. “But you can be sure that allowing Keladry of Mindelan to train as a page for one year will result in her becoming a knight.”

“Who is to determine the success or failure of her probationary period?” she demands after a pregnant pause.

“Wyldon of Cavall,” he says. “He’s the training master, after all.”

It always sounds strange to her, the way her former lover’s name rolls off of her husband’s tongue. The first syllable seems to drawl slightly, in a way that Wyldon never says it. Her mind drifts to the first time she fought with Jon, and how it led to a surprising kiss in the Royal Forest. Or the time she refused to sleep in her husband’s bed for a year; Alanna had made wicked comments about how a woman could satisfy herself when her husband was loathsome, not knowing that Thayet was far from desperate for sexual satisfaction. 

She gazes at this man she once loved so much, so passionately. Has his behavior finally destroyed the affection she has for him? She still likes his idealism, his handsome features, the way he feels so calming most of the time. But right now all the warmth she could muster is gone, lost in a haze of anger and disappointment.

“I can’t believe you could do this again, Jon,” she whispers bitterly. 

“I insisted that the girl be allowed, but Cavall’s as conservative as they come. He threatened to resign if I didn’t agree to the probation.”

She rocks slightly on her feet, as if a gust of wind has slammed into her. She knows that Wyldon isn’t fond of female fighters; he’s made enough comments about the Riders for her to know his feelings. 

But somehow, it was easier to accept the worst of Jonathan.


	18. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 18 - Already there was something mysterious and homelike  
> _

440 H.E.

 

“I feel like I’ve known Tortall for years,” she says, glancing up at him as they walk through the forest. “Does that sound strange to you?”

“Not especially.” She likes that his words are clipped, that his sentences are short. He never gives more than he has to. It makes her feel special, knowing that he gives her so much in all other aspects of life. “That’s how I felt when I began training for my shield.”

“Like you were born to be a knight?”

He nods.

“When I first saw you, after the coronation, I thought you were the perfect example of what a knight should be.”

“That wasn’t the first time you looked at me.” His wide mouth turns upward in a wry smile.

“It wasn’t?”

“I was there the evening you were introduced to the court. You might not recall, but I remember very vividly the moment you laid your eyes on mine.” 

“Wyldon, you surprise me with your hidden poetic nature.” 

“I’m full of surprises.”

She laughs outright. “I suppose you are,” she agrees, “though I’m certain most of the people who know you insist that you’re as predictable as the change of seasons.”

“Then they misunderstand the seasons as much as they misunderstand me.”

“What do you mean?”

He glances at her again, amusement in his dark eyes. “Everyone thinks that spring should come with the April showers, and get surprised by a late snowstorm. We put away our summer clothes in mid-September, only to pull them out again for a warm, sunny October day.”

“Too true.”

He stops, suddenly, and takes her hand. It’s been over a week since their inappropriate kiss, and they haven’t touched each other since. Their rides through the forest have been full of conversation instead of touches. Friendship is less frightening than infidelity, though Thayet has never known friendship to induce her to hold her breath, as she does now.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he says solemnly. “I’ve never met a woman who seems so natural to me, or who can make me smile so easily.”

From a man like him, this feels as heavy as a confession of love. “I-I’m in love with my husband,” she blurts out, losing all semblance of her usually cool demeanor. 

“I know you are,” he says, bringing her hand to his lips. His eyes never leave hers.

“And your wife – she’s special to me.”

“I know.” His voice shakes.

Thayet touches his clean-shaven cheek with her free hand. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I think you are so comfortable, so easy to like. So easy to want more of.”

He bows his head down, his lips hovering above hers for a long time before he finally pulls away, shaking his head. “We cannot let ourselves get lost in this madness.”


	19. After All These Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Prompt 19 - Nothing was ever lost_

454 H.E.

 

He doesn’t mind being away from her, because every time he sees her after an absence he falls in love all over again. She doesn’t love him anymore, he knows; he considers this his penance. Loving her, and feeling the pain of not being loved, fills him with shame.

Wyldon has never dealt well with shame, though. “Shame is for cowards,” his father always said. “People who are honest in life and can justify their actions have no need for shame.” And he knows the truth in these words.

He is surprised when he notices the lines on Vivenne’s face; when did his twenty-year old bride become such an elegant woman of thirty-five? Her eyes look tired, but content. No matter what has happened between them, she appears to enjoy her life at Cavall with her daughters and her hounds.

Over dinner he listens to his daughters’ chatter, catching up on the missing months, and gazes at Vivenne. She smiles at him, at one point, and he feels his heart pound as it hasn’t in thirteen years. He wonders, for the briefest of moments, if they can ever go back. Could the strain in their relationship – brought on entirely by him – ever ease?

After dinner he retreats to his office, his heart a little heavier – as it always is on the first day back in Cavall after a years’ training. He sits in his favorite reading chair, open book in his lap as he stares out the window. This is the life he deserves, he knows. Perhaps if he had betrayed his wife on one occasion – if his entire affair with the queen had just involved one kiss in the forest – she might be able to forgive his duplicity.

A knock pulls him from his thoughts, and he finds Vivenne standing in the doorway. “I’ve missed you,” she says lightly, her mouth twisted into a wry smile. 

“You have?” His voice breaks, and he feels sheepish.

She nods, crossing the room. Taking his hand, she pulls him to his feet. “I’ve held you at bay for seven years, afraid to forgive you because I thought you’d crush me again. But I’d rather love you and risk that pain than love you and fight it.”

He pulls her into an embrace, closing his eyes. “There’s no risk,” he tells her. “I won’t hurt you again. I promise.” When he kisses her, the thrill that courses through his body is nothing like he’s experienced in his life. She’s his everything, and even through his regrets, he’s glad that he’s learned this lesson.


	20. Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 20 - Howls restrain'd by decorum_

441 H.E.

She’s always the most stunning woman at a Midwinter ball; Wyldon feels a bit sorry for the young ladies who come to court expecting to be discovered as the jewel of every party. Tortall has no need for undiscovered beauty, for the queen is the one who takes everyone’s breath away. 

Her gown’s plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination, and Wyldon wants to gouge the eyes of every man who stares too long at her perfect skin. He wonders how many men are imagining what it’s like to run their lips over her collar bone, how many are watching the way the fabric of her gown clings to her body. 

He grips his wine glass tightly and breathes deeply to keep from glowering at every male within sight.

“Your nostrils are flaring, Cavall,” a clipped voice says from behind him.

“Nonsense,” Wyldon replies, turning to face his brother-in-law. 

“No,” Dermid insists. “You’re angry about something, and you’re trying to fight it.”

“Hardly.” Wyldon takes a sip, glaring at a knight who requests a dance of Thayet.

“Ah,” Dermid says knowingly. “Angry about the queen’s new Rider units?”

“No.”

“She’s an abomination. Gorgeous as hell, but she shouldn’t be on the throne.”

Wyldon grunts and takes another gulp of wine.

“Elasabenne says the king could’ve had his pick of foreign princesses; if he’d gone with the pretty thing from the Copper Isles we’d at least have some nice trade agreements. Instead he opts for a refugee halfbreed from a nation that’s fallen apart. They don’t even recognize her in Sarain as exiled nobility, for all she still uses the Duchess of Camau and Thanhyien title.

“And her notions are terrible – women fighting alongside men, commoners being educated. What’s the world coming to, I ask?” Dermid shakes his head.

“It’s falling apart around us,” Wyldon growls, watching Thayet laugh in another man’s arms. It’s strange, that he feels no insane jealous urges when she’s with her husband – a man she loves – but when she’s in the arms of strangers he wants to rip those very arms off of the offending male. 

“I didn’t realize you disliked her so much,” his brother-in-law says with a smirk. “You’re glaring daggers at her Wyl. You must learn to control yourself before her Rider unit comes after you!” With a derisive laugh, he walks off, leaving Wyldon to try, once again, to attempt to manage his inner turmoil.


	21. Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 21 - Unclench your floodgates_

450 H.E.

“I’ve reconciled with Jonathan,” she explains haltingly. “After the last year…” Her voice falters and she looks away.

Cavall’s Heart whinnies softly, shifting from one foot to the other as if feeling Wyldon’s unease as he continues saddling her. _It’s over_ , he tells himself. _This time it’s really over._ His hands – famous for always being steady with a sword or lance in hand – shake and prevent him from buckling the strap. He gives up entirely and turns to face her. “So you’re moving back into his rooms?”

She nods. “It’s – it’s more than just that,” she admits, her eyes troubled. She leans over the wall of the stall, resting her head on her crossed arms. “I want to start over with him – find whatever it was we had in the beginning.”

He nods. “I understand.”

“Do you?” She laughs, but it’s bitter and broken. Nothing like the overjoyed laughter he remembers from the beginning. “I like to think that you understood me once, but I don’t know anymore. You never tell me what you’re feeling, Wyl.”

“Don’t call me Wyl.” It reminds him of Vivenne. And he doesn’t want to be reminded of her when his heart is already aching. 

“Clue me in to what you’re thinking, at least.”

 _Is this why she’s going back to the king?_ He wonders if the king has as much of a way with words when dealing with his wife as he does with the rest of Tortall. Everyone seems to think he can do no wrong, when Wyldon has a list of all the ways he’s wronged Thayet over the years. What did he do with his quick wit and dazzling smile that would make her forget years of neglect? “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” he lies through numb lips. 

“You’ve been my confidante for years, Wyldon.” She’s told him many times that she doesn’t know what she’d do without him to open up to, that being her friend was more important than being her lover. But every time she whispered her secret pains or wishes, they were followed by kisses. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. And like everything else between them, once started they were unable to stop.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be.” His voice is cold and unemotional, and he turns his back to her again. He knows it’s a sign of great weakness that he’s continued to love her. If she dislikes him, though – if he shuts her out – it will be easier to stay away.

“I can’t tell if you’re hurt or angry or confused – or even relieved. Just talk to me, Wyldon.”

“I can’t,” he replies softly. “Once I start, there will be no stopping.” He doesn’t know if he means the words she’s asking for, or perhaps the thick burning sensation in his throat. He can’t recall the last time he cried. Was it the night Vivenne left, after the princess’s birth? Memories of that night are hazy due to alcohol and shame. He suspects tonight’s will be, too.


	22. Precious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 22 - You've found the cure for all the world's diseases_

457 H.E.

She’s been coming to the training yards for a week. After the pages finish their morning routines, and the knights begin to trickle in for their own chance in the yards, she slips among them, her bow in hand. The first day he watched her curiously, wondering about the extent of her skill. She’s too small for her bow, but it doesn’t seem to hold her back. She makes up size with skill. 

Did her mother teach her to shoot like this? Or was this something ingrained, perhaps in the K’miri part of her blood?

On the third day he comes over to her side, pulling her elbow higher. “The arrow will fly truer if your form is perfected, your highness.”

She smiles up at him, her dark brown eyes filled with mischief. “Thank you, my lord.” He hasn’t heard her speak since she was six years old, eagerly feeding sugar cubes to the horses in the stables. Her voice is strong and steady, lower than his other daughters’ tones at that age. “I need to perfect my shooting, if I’m to prove that I should be in the Riders in four years’ time.”

“Is that your plan?”

“Saving the world, one bandit at a time.” She grins, and it’s nothing like his smile. Or Thayet’s. It reminds him of Buriram Tourakom, with hints of savagery and wickedness. “I’d like to be the Rider Commander someday, like my mama was.”

“That takes a lot of dedication.” He muses that, at one time, he would’ve been appalled at the notion of any girl going into battle. This girl, in particular, might’ve made him hate the notion even more. Perhaps Keladry of Mindelan was able to teach him things that the queen had never managed in all their time together.

“It does,” Vania agrees with a nod of her head. She sets another arrow, and he notes that her elbow position is exactly as high as he had previously suggested. When she releases it, it hits the target’s center with a satisfying thud. “I want to do a great many things, though, my lord. I want to be an advisor to my brother when he is the king. I want to build healing houses in every town in the realm, and create a school for mages specifically for healing.”

“Are you Gifted?” A shred of doubt creeps into his heart, and he’s surprised by how much it bothers him. It should be a relief, if this girl isn’t really his child. 

“No,” she says ruefully. “Everyone else is, except Liam.”

He swallows thickly; this news elates him. “Then I find it even more admirable that you’re not a healer yourself, but care so much about the Gifts of others.” 

Vania smiles up at him, her cheeks pink. He likes that her eyes are youthful, hopeful versions of his own. Her cheekbones are his, too. Perhaps she has other traits of his, as well.

After years of anxiety and misery, shame and betrayal, he can look at her and know that it was worth it, if someone like her was created.


	23. Breakfast Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 23 - Born too late_

455 H.E.

“I was thinking of looking to Maren for Vania,” Jon tells his wife as he pours cream into her coffee. 

“She’s only nine,” she replies. 

“Yes, and we started putting out feelers to Carthak when Kally was eleven.”

“That was different – there was a new ruler on the throne and the balance of power in the Eastern lands was shaky.”

“And you don’t think it’ll be shifting again soon, with the news we received from George about Scanra?”

Thayet frowns and continues to butter her toast. “Why not Tyra?”

“There really aren’t any eligible men from Tyra, unless we want to marry her to an aging widower.” He eyes her shrewdly. “Is there a reason you suggest the nearest merchant state, my love?” 

She swallows thickly. 

“You know,” he continues, “my mother always told me I was born late, Thayet, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know I’m not her father.” His voice is cold.

“I wanted to tell you from the beginning, but I had hoped that maybe her brown eyes came from my mother.” She lowers her eyes. 

“You could have told me when it was you started sleeping with another man.”

She flushes. “Things weren’t good between us for a long time, Jon.”

“I know they weren’t.” His voice is steady; he’s had years to study his wife and try to find out who her partner in crime could be. But he isn’t prepared, even with all he knows, to talk about it. “I never sought another woman’s company.”

Her lips are pressed together in a tight line. He doesn’t like when she closes off this way, when her face becomes impassive and she doesn’t say a word. 

“Was he a nobleman?”

A slight nod.

“You won’t tell me who it was, will you?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to have him killed for treason.” Even though part of him wants to. “The last thing I need is to lose a great training master in addition to the love of my wife. The needs of the realm come first.”

“They always do.” She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee.


	24. Solitary Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 24 - I know where you go to my lovely, when you're alone in your bed_

453 H.E.

She can’t sleep when he’s home from the capital. Their decision to wait until the girls are well asleep before retiring is perhaps to mask the fact that they’re not sleeping in the same room, and haven’t for nearly seven years. But she doubts that it escapes Eiralys’s watchful eye. 

But she finds it impossible to sleep once it’s past midnight. She catches up on her work, instead, sewing and managing the household ledger. She remembers a time in her life when this was her favorite hour of night – servants were abed and their one daughter had finally taken to sleeping through the night. She would try to balance the books, but light kisses on the back of her neck would pull her from one sort of wifely duty (a chore) to another kind altogether (a delight).

But tonight there is no hope for such a distraction. She hasn’t been intimate with Wyldon – with anyone – for years. And even when she was last intimate with Wyldon, he was hiding the truth of his own love for another woman. So it wasn’t really as intimate as she believed.

She assumes he was in love, at least. Maybe he still is. They haven’t spoken of the queen since his first return to Cavall upon her discovery. They had talked and argued into the wee hours of the night – a night just like this – but it had done no good. The only conclusion they had drawn was that she would not request their marriage be dissolved, if only for the sake of their daughters. So instead, she said she would stay at Cavall while he remained in Corus for his work, and they would no longer live as husband and wife. 

But not being expected to love someone and not loving him are two different things, she discovered in his absence. And as she crawls into her bed and burrows under the sheets, she involuntarily remembers what it is like to have his chest pressed against her back, to feel his lips against her temple. She wishes she could pretend, for just one night, that he had never broken her heart. 

It would be a simple thing, to crawl into his bed and initiate things. She remembers the many occasions, in the first years of their marriage, when she would wake him up with kisses and touches in the middle of the night. His dark eyes would open the slightest bit, and his wide mouth twisted into a grin before he pinned her beneath him. 

Climbing out of bed, she dons her slippers and makes her way to his room. She doesn’t know if she’d prefer him to be awake and restless, like her, or sound asleep. No light escapes from the door at the end of the corridor, though, and when she pushes the door open she can hear his light snores. He clutches his pillow to his chest, the way he once held her. 

He could be dreaming of holding the queen in his arms, she realizes with a sinking heart. Or maybe he’s moved on to some other woman at court. It’s impossible not to wonder how many affairs he’s had, or how many times he’s been in love. He’d told her, when she’d discovered his dalliance with the queen, that he loved her; she can’t help but wonder if he still does.

She closes the door with a heavy sigh. Tonight, with all her wishing and longing, is not the night to spend wondering about his love.


	25. Hell Hath no Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 25 - When the monsters call out the names of men_

447 H.E.

She has been angry with him for three weeks. They exchange dark looks whenever they pass each other in the stables, whenever they cross paths at formal functions. The problem with being mad at a secret lover, she learns, is that there is no friend she can vent to. 

But a tournament, on the other hand, offers some form of relief.

“Sir Raoul, could I have a moment of your time?”

He removes his helm and dismounts, a smile on his tan face. “Such formality, Thayet?”

“I have a proposition.” Her eyes flash wickedly as she makes her request. 

He eyes her warily. “That’s harsh, even for you. Why the vendetta?”

“He’s made his opinion known about my Riders.” It’s not a complete lie.

“So have I,” Raoul points out.

“True,” Thayet concedes. “But you are civil about it, at least.” She can see him bristle at the notion of anyone but him being rude to the queen. In normal circumstances she would feel bad for manipulating him. “Can I count on you?”

“You can be sure of it.”

~~~

The next day finds her in the Royal Box in the stands, under a canopy with Lady Cythera. This particular joust is called “The Queen’s Match”, as she has offered a prize to the victor. The heralds remind the crowd of this fact, and the spectators are abuzz with chatter – it’s the most exciting match of the tournament.

“Who do you expect to win?” Cythera asks eagerly.

“Sir Raoul.”

They fall silent when a bugle signals for the knights to charge, and the horses thunder down the path. They meet with a clang, and Raoul’s lance shatters upon impact. Thayet claps along with the other ladies, refraining from cheering out. 

Before the second pass, though, both knights look up at her. One salutes her, and she can imagine the wry smile behind his visor. The other knight simply nods at her. His eyes are hidden from her, but she wonders if it’s his gaze, and not the setting sun, that feels like it burns her.

When the second pass commences, something seems off. Raoul is struck hard, and popped from the saddle entirely. The crowd gasps – Goldenlake is considered to be one of the best, if not the absolute best, tilter in Tortall.

The heralds declare a winner, and Thayet makes her way down to the list field where Raoul is gingerly picking himself up off of the ground, his helmet removed.

“You haven’t done that in a while, Raoul,” Thayet says dryly.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it’d be Cavall.” He shakes his head. “Never again.”

She turns to face the other knight, and the crowd shushes. He removes his helm and gazes down at her with stern eyes. “Your majesty,” he says, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. She unwillingly thinks of all the other places those lips have touched her, and her face burns with anger and embarrassment.

“None of that,” she murmurs, pulling her hand back. “I declare you the Queen’s Champion for the duration of this tournament, Lord Wyldon of Cavall,” she states, her voice loud and clear. Pushing herself up on to her toes, she kisses his cheek – the customary reward for a knight who has earned accolades from the Tortallan queen. He flinches at her touch.

“You can’t thwart me, Thayet,” he tells her angrily under his breath. “Challenge me in any way you want, I won’t back down.”

She smiles cruelly, pulling away from him. “Tomorrow you’ll likely be challenged by the Lioness, Wyldon. In fencing.”


	26. Servants of a Higher Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 26 - Trying to make a deal with the sunshine_

451 H.E.

“Mama, you’re walking too fast!” Cathrea complains, tugging on Vivenne’s arm. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

Vivenne forces herself to slow down. “I’m sorry Catry,” she says, looking down at her daughter. She wants to get back to their rooms without drawing the attention of former friends and acquaintances.

“Oh!” the eight year old girl cries, stopping dead in her tracks. Vivenne looks up again to see Thayet standing at the corridor’s end, where the permanent residences end and meet up with the hallway that leads to the royal wing. She’s as stunning as ever, looking more womanly than Vivenne remembers.

And she’s not alone. The youngest princess, only five years old, stands next to her mother, gazing at them with dark eyes that make Vivenne’s heart break all over again. Vivenne curtsies low, and instructs her daughter to do so as well. “Cathrea, this is the queen.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Cathrea,” Thayet says, her low pitched voice a surprise to Vivenne. Has she really forgotten so much about her in the last five years? “I’m Thayet, and this is my daughter Vania.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Cathrea replies, and her dark eyes widen just the slightest bit when she can finally tear her eyes away from the queen long enough to look at the princess. 

They’re not mirror images of each other, but there are enough similarities to betray the secret of their kinship. Maybe they won’t figure it out on their own, but they can see something familiar in each others’ faces, and it delights them.

“I-I’ve missed having you here,” Thayet says weakly. She does not reach out to take Vivenne’s hand, as she would have done so casually years before. 

“I won’t deny that there are days I’ve missed being at court,” she replies, coolness creeping into her voice, “but you can see why I was needed in Cavall.” She nods at the two girls, who’ve begun their own conversation. 

“I suspected that’s why you left,” the queen whispers, looking at their daughters. 

“I’m not telling the world your secret.”

“What?”

Vivenne squares her shoulders and steps further away from the girls. “I hate what you did, and I can’t see myself forgiving you any time in the near future. But calling attention to it only makes a mockery of my life, and ruins my daughters. I want them to live happy lives.”

“Do they…?”

“No. They look more like me.”

Thayet’s shoulders slump with relief.

“We’re here only for another day. I’m taking Catry to the temple tomorrow,” Vivenne informs her. “She’s to be an acolyte to the High Priestess of the Goddess.”

“She’s being sequestered because of me?” The queen frowns; Vivenne knows that she believes in all women having the right to certain freedoms, such as living the kind of life they want rather than the life their parents choose.

Vivenne purses her lips. “No, I wouldn’t make my daughter suffer for the mistakes of her father. She’s chosen this life for herself. I won’t deny that it came as a relief to me, as I didn’t want her to come to court at sixteen and give people something to question.”

“I’m sorry,” Thayet whispers, her voice breaking.

“So am I,” Vivenne says heavily. “But this is for the better of all of us. The Goddess’s doing, I’m sure; she’s more forgiving than I am.” She turns back to the two little girls who are completely unconscious of the unease between their mothers. “Say your goodbyes, Catry. It’s time for us to be going.”


	27. Purging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 27 - I will be your lover and exorcist_

450 H.E.

The fight is over as easily as it began. He finds her in the Royal forest, taking her daily ride – or does she ride less these days? He’s intentionally kept himself in the dark regarding her whereabouts, for fear of obsessively following her every movement. 

But when he walks through the forest, he finds her horse stabled at the longhouse occasionally used for training pages or housing Riders during longer local missions. “Do you come here often?” he asks, when he finally musters the fortitude to go inside.

“Occasionally.” Her expression reveals nothing, but the way she walks – slowly, dragging her hand along the wall – makes him feel as though she’s reliving secret memories. Perhaps this was where she had assignations with her lover. Or still does.

“I’ve missed you, Thayet.” His voice breaks slightly, and she turns to gaze at him.

“Oh, Jon.” 

Words aren’t necessary after that; he crosses the room in three very large steps, and she flings herself into his arms, clinging to him as he kisses her. He’s missed the feel of her, the scent of her. Clothes are removed swiftly, and he’s conscientious enough to set his on the dusty, dirty floor before lowering her to the ground. She purrs at his touch, and he wonders if her other lover has the same effect on her. When she nips at him and kisses him, he finds himself trying to remember if she’s always behaved like this during lovemaking, or if this is something someone else has brought out in her.

Clenching his eyes shut, he tries to chase these demons away. But it’s of no use – so he decides that he will remove any thoughts of this lover from her mind. Out of her memories. Out of her heart. 

She cries out in pain and pleasure, raking her fingernails over his shoulders as she clenches her legs tightly around his waist. The feel of her drives him as mad as the notion of her sharing this kind of affection with another man, and he continues with the same forcefulness until they find themselves gasping against each other, completely spent.

“Come back to the Royal wing,” he asks her softly, kissing her temple. “Kally isn’t mad at me, you know.”

“I know,” she answers ruefully. “And at first, that just made me angrier. I hated that you could reason with her so easily, that she would throw a dream away because you’re good with words.”

“And now?”

“I’m not angry with you, Jon. You were right, and she was right to accept what you were saying. The situation still drives me crazy – but it’s not enough to warrant separating myself from you.” She sits up, bringing her knees up to her chest. “You make it so easy to forget that I love you. Or make myself want to forget.”

“How so?” His voice is low and insecure.

“You care more about this damned nation than about your family,” she growls. “I understand that it’s your duty – you’re a king, and kings have to be sovereigns first. But I want moments like these, where you forget about the realm and lose yourself in me. This hasn’t happened in years. Sometimes you have to be man first, then a king.”

He remembers his ceremony becoming the Voice of Tribes, and how he said he wanted to know the why of men and women. He sits up to hold his wife in his arms again, closing his eyes. Jealousy, insecurity, rage, fear… these were only parts of women and men – but parts he will try to set aside in favor of love and trust. “Come back to the Royal wing,” he suggests again, following up with tender promises.


	28. Consolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 28 - Does anybody know what we are living for?_

446 H.E.

 

After lunch, when he returns to his office, Thayet is waiting for him. She sits very primly, her back perfectly straight and her skirts fanned out elegantly around her legs. She’s absolutely still, staring out the window into the rose garden. 

He says nothing at the sight of her, merely raising his eyebrows as he shuts the door. 

“I… I needed to see you.” She meets his eyes briefly, then gazes again out the window. “I heard about Vivenne.”

He swallows thickly. “So the rumors have begun?”

“No. Cythera of Elden told me that she’d returned to Cavall. I just assumed….”

“That she knows? Yes.”

She stands and begins to pace. It’s not a nervous habit she’s known for, but Wyldon supposes he’s seen more of her nerves than anyone else has. “Wyldon, I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He lowers himself into his chair, grimacing. “I’m more to blame than you are. You can at least say your marriage was falling apart when we began. What excuse do I have?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” she insists.

“Isn’t it?” 

She walks to his side, taking his hand in her own as she leans against the oak desk. “I knew throughout that you love her, Wyldon, and I did my best to pretend I wasn’t destroying something.” Tears fill her hazel eyes, and he has to force himself to look away. “I told myself that I needed you more. I convinced myself that she already knew. She suspected for a long time.”

“She did?” He’s surprised at the stab of pain this causes. He thought he’d dealt with this – four months had passed, after all, since she left Corus.

Thayet nods. “I should have told her then.”

“No, I should have.” He sighs heavily, and Thayet squeezes his hand. “Is that the only reason you came here?”

“I… wanted to tell you,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, but when she opens her mouth to speak again, she freezes. Her eyebrows furrow in frustration, and she shakes her head. “As soon as I found out about Vivenne, I came to find you. I’ve been spending all my time with the baby, naturally, but I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

“Of course I am,” he growls, pulling his hand away from her. He pulls out a sheaf of papers and begins to sort through them, looking for the most recent reports from the knight-masters to the realm’s squires. A delicate hand presses down upon them, however, and he is forced to look up at Thayet again, questioning.

“You’re not. You’re wonderful at masking your feelings to the rest of the world, Wyldon, but you can’t get past me so easily.” 

“I’m not,” he finally agrees. “But I’ve made this bed, and now I get to sleep in it. Alone.”

“I came here to tell you that I still love you,” she whispers. “We’ve both lost the love of our spouses, but we can still have each other, at least.” 

He gazes at her for a very long time, wanting to pull her into his lap, to kiss her soundly, to nurse the wounds Vivenne inflicted by reveling in the comforts of Thayet. “That we can,” he replies, setting his papers aside so he can reach out to her, instead.


	29. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 29 - My makeup may be flaking but my smile still stays on_

455 H.E.

After spending sixteen years at court, it’s easy to tell people apart at a masquerade. It’s a night when people are supposed to be indistinguishable, free and inhibited. But everyone knows who the queen is, and the queen knows everyone else.

Jonathan dances with a young woman from Macayhill, recognizable by her long legs and luscious black curls. Thayet wonders idly if he has ever strayed, but comes to the conclusion that he wouldn’t. Jon’s idea of cheating is coming to bed early instead of working through the night.

She circles the ballroom, admiring the feathers and jewels fastened to every mask, every gown. Gary and Cythera dance together, recognizable by their affection for each other as much as by his moustache. He holds her hand against his chest as they sway to the music, apparently lost in each other’s eyes or the words they murmur to one another. 

And Thayet’s heart aches for that kind of closeness.

Her situation with Jon has improved; he’s been more attentive, and she’s been more patient. She still reflects upon the early months of their marriage, when they lived and breathed for each other, and misses that feeling. It’s been years since she was touched in a way that made her feel as though, for one brief moment, she was someone’s world.

It seems fitting, as she circulates the ballroom, that he eyes now fall on Wyldon of Cavall. He’s not dancing – he rarely dances, even at a masquerade. There was one year – right after Liam was born – when they shared a dance. He had whispered inappropriate comments in her ear, trying to make her laugh. They’ve changed so much since that time: she was only twenty-four, and he’d been barely over thirty. Now their children are dressing up like adults and setting out in the world, and they haven’t spoken in almost three years.

He stands with Lady Vivenne, speaking to her in a low voice that Thayet recognizes as Wyldon at his most romantic. Vivenne’s smile is that of the twenty-year old girl she met at Jon’s coronation, rather than the understandably bitter woman she last spoke to. It’s impossible not to be a little jealous – of the obvious love they have for each other, for the fact that they were able to recover after his years of adultery.

Wyldon’s dark eyes meet hers, but his expression is lost behind his mask. Thayet simply smiles, nodding once. His lips twist wryly, and then he turns back to his wife.

Thayet continues to move along the ballroom until she’s at Jonathan’s side. “Would you like to dance?” she asks, taking his hand. He offers her his dazzling smile – the one that charms strangers more often than friends – and leads her to the dance floor. It’s not the life she wanted, and it’s not the life she wants. But she’ll find her happily ever after eventually, she thinks, as she enviously watches another couple on the other side of the room.


	30. Careless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _prompt 30 - Whatever happens, I leave it all to chance._

445 H.E.

“You don’t have your charm,” he whispers, running his fingers along her collar bone.

“I don’t know where it is,” she admits, throwing her head back to allow access for his lips on her neck. “Jon and I have been trying for another child.”

“This could be dangerous, then.”

“I haven’t conceived in six months with Jon. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to…” His lips trail down from her neck to her breast, his tongue swirling around one nipple. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t want to have sex with her, but there are other ways they can pleasure each other. He runs his hand down her smooth, taut body, relishing in how fit and strong she is, how she can be slender without any bit of frailty.

“I want you… inside me…”

“Not yet,” he murmurs. 

“Are you going to torture me all night?”

“This is torture?” He places his hand between her legs, knowing from experience exactly how to touch her so she’ll moan and writhe in pleasure. She rocks her hips against him, fighting for some semblance of control over the intensity of his movements. 

“Please,” she begs. 

“Please stop?” he teases.

“Oh gods,” she groans, clutching his shoulder painfully. 

He moves down her body, eager to taste her again. It’s been too long since they’ve been together. And like each time they’ve made love, he fears that it’s the last time. So he doesn’t waste one minute, and uses every skill he’s learned over the last four years with her; he’s perfected the art of bringing her to orgasm, and knows exactly how to pace himself to drive her senseless.

When her entire body tenses and she tugs at the sheets, he asks if they should stop.

“No,” she whispers breathlessly. “Don’t worry about the necklace.”

He can’t help but worry, though, even as he slides into her and gasps at the heat of her body around him. He’s never failed to impregnate Vivenne when she wasn’t wearing her goddess charm, after all.


End file.
